The Roads That Cross
by atomicfoxtail
Summary: Many fates can be found in the expanse of the Mojave, winding like the cracked roads and fallen highways of the old world. Eight of them stand out, each coming from different directions but leading to the same place, crossing with each other and one in particular that is burdened with determining the future of New Vegas.
1. Boone

Contrary to popular belief, you didn't care about new people in town. Jeannie May would always try to introduce you and Manny to anyone who bothered to spend an extended amount of time in the motel lobby, especially since Carla "disappeared". On the nights that he visited you up in the dino's mouth, Andy would tell you that it was all in good intentions, that Jeannie May was just worried about you and so were others, but you really didn't care. And once newcomers got the hint, neither did they. They always ended up in Jeannie May or Manny's company, and you were just fine with that. You didn't bother anyone, and they returned the favor.

So you were more than a little surprised when, near the beginning of your shift one night, the door behind you creaked open without so much as a courtesy knock. You spun around, gripping your rifle tight, and prepared for the worst.

"The worst" ended up just being a woman with wide green eyes and an arm in a makeshift sling. She looked about as taken aback as you felt, no doubt due to the gun pointed at her. You lowered your aim and scowled.

"Goddammit," you hissed. "Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?"

She blinked before giving you a small lopsided grin. "Expecting visitors? Trust me, with this arm there isn't much I could do even if I wanted to."

She looked young, probably a few years younger than you. You sighed.

"Yeah," you muttered, "I guess maybe I am. But not like you."

She laughed. "Well, that's cryptic."

"Why are you here?" you snapped. You had work to do, and she wasn't helping.

"Guy downstairs told me a sniper was up here," she replied with a shrug, glancing around the dino's mouth and ultimately unfazed by your attitude. "Thought I'd say hi, and all that business."

Before you told her to go, you examined her, noting the spatters of blood and dirt on her arms and exposed stomach. Upon further inspection, you realized that the faded red fabric of her arm sling had come from the shirt under the black leather vest that only covered the top half of her torso, and was the ripped off midsection. She must have just gotten into town, straight from the road. Missed the full effect of the welcome wagon, at this time of night.

Her smile faded as she raised an eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

And suddenly, you had an idea.

* * *

You heard voices nearby, slowly getting louder. Idle chatter and laughter between women, it seemed. The urge to duck down and hide behind the large wooden teeth of the dino was overwhelming. You had nothing to hide, you reminded yourself. Whoever was coming, however, certainly did. But you were supposed to be here. You were just doing your job as usual: protecting the town from any danger be it ghouls, geckos, raiders.

Traitors to the Legion.

You were somewhat taken aback when, as the voices gained faces, you saw who was accompanying the black-haired woman. For a moment you considered that maybe she was wrong about who she chose, that she was serving some other ulterior motive, or even that she was simply doing something else besides the task you'd trusted her with. But sure enough, they stopped right in front of the dinosaur with the younger woman intentionally standing behind Jeannie May, glancing up at you with a slight nod.

Once the initial shock and uncertainty behind finding out the identity of the person who had essentially torn your world apart faded, you brought up your rifle and looked through the scope.

You smirked. Why, you weren't entirely sure. Maybe it was the way the younger woman, now insisting that something about the dinosaur was worth seeing at such a late hour, had a slight flash of vengeance in her eyes; maybe it was the way the hand not clutching your beret and not hindered by the cheap sling was unintentionally twitching towards the pistol on her belt, as though she was eager to do the job herself. Maybe it was just your own pure satisfaction in being able to get your revenge. It didn't matter to you in the end. All that mattered was that your aim was true.

The signal was given as your red beret was placed on the woman's black pulled-back hair, and you wasted no time in taking the shot. It rang out in the night, but you knew that no one nearby would think anything of it because they knew about and cherished their guardian snipers. The remaining woman was splattered with blood, having been in close proximity, but she didn't seem to care as she spat on the body after it hit the ground, took off your beret, and walked away.

You stepped back from the dino's teeth and lowered your rifle, absorbing the moment to the best of your ability. You didn't feel as different as you thought you would, but at least you got some sort of justice.

When she came up to the mouth the second time, she had the decency to knock, though she still invited herself in without any confirmation from you. You turned around to face her, looking down at her. Not a hint of remorse could be found in her green eyes, and that solidified your own lack of regret. She used her good hand to give your beret back and wiped the blood from her face as best she could. All it did was smudge red streaks over her slightly tanned skin.

"That's it, then," you said. "How did you know?"

She sighed and pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket. "Broke into her safe in the lobby. Found the bill of sale."

You didn't move to take it from her. You just stared at it. Suddenly, you were filled with all of the rage you'd felt when you'd gone down to the slave auction and saw your wife in rags amongst the scum in crimson, bidding and reaching for her like she was some object. All of what you'd seen, what you'd had to do – or at least felt you had to do – was because one fucking sheet of paper that had been locked away by the very woman who'd given you and Carla and Manny a home. All of the distasteful glares Jeannie May had given Carla that you never thought anything of, all of the smiles the woman gave you after your wife's disappearance, any attempt she'd made at matching you up with any woman who even remotely complimented the town suddenly came back to you, and you found yourself absolutely miserable and livid, a combination which had driven you to the brink of death so many times in the past few months. The piece of paper this woman was holding out to you was the embodiment of every one of those memories and all of your rage and pain. You wanted it gone, out of sight, out of mind.

She cleared her throat before tucking the paper back into her pocket. "I'm, uh…. I'm sorry."

You snapped out of your trance and dug into one of your pockets, fishing out any caps you had. "Here. This is all I can give. I think our dealings are done here."

She removed the sack off her back and held it open to you, and you unceremoniously dumped the caps in. She gave you a strange look.

"What will you do now?" she asked quietly. Her eyes screamed pity, much like everyone else's after Carla's disappearance, but you couldn't let yourself be angry about it. She'd helped you more in one night than anyone else had in months.

"I don't know. I won't be staying, I know that. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries," you muttered with a sigh. "Maybe I'll wander, like you."

She didn't say anything for a moment, only nodding lightly without meeting your gaze. She chewed on her bottom lip, tapped her fingers lightly on her leather belt. You were honestly getting a little uncomfortable. You opened your mouth to dismiss her, to alleviate the tense atmosphere.

"Come with me," she blurted before you could say anything. "Let's go after the Legion together."

"You don't want to do that," you replied quickly, almost on impulse, with a bitter laugh. Her expression went from anxious to determined in a second, and you cursed inwardly. You'd spurred her on.

"I thought snipers worked in teams," she remarked with a hand on her hip and the quirk of an eyebrow. She was smiling like she knew she had you.

She wasn't wrong.

* * *

You'd wanted to leave that night, to be done with Novac as soon as you could, but you realized that that was an unrealistic goal. Your new companion – the Courier, as she called herself – wouldn't do well with a recovering dislocated shoulder (she'd told you that she had run into a Jackal ambush and that grenade launchers had been involved, but she grinned as she proudly showed you three deactivated land mines), especially at night. So, as much as you wanted to go, you stayed for a few days, reluctantly letting her sleep in your room. You'd left the dino's mouth with her that first night and, after she insisted on hiding Jeannie May's body, took her to the room, more or less abandoning your post because you knew you'd need to protect her in the morning. You weren't going to let your watch over the town take the life of another person under your care.

You let her sleep in the bed while you took the couch. When she was settled in, she informed you of her agenda: she was on her way to Boulder City, tracking down a man who had stolen from and nearly killed her. You couldn't help but notice the scar at her temple as her unconsciously went to fiddle with the hair around the area. You simply nodded.

As she slept, you stared at the ceiling in thought, but for the first time, it was towards the future. You still believed that you were going to meet your end soon and justly, and that she was in danger just by affiliation, but now you could at least find some sort of purpose to keep you occupied in the meantime.

Maybe she should have been who you were expecting all along.

* * *

**A/N:** All of the chapters will be in order of who the Courier met (according to my own plot), so stay tuned! Also, this story is the first part in a series. This is my first story in general, so I'm sorry if it isn't all that great.

(Also, I totally realized that ED-E wasn't supposed to come in until later, oops. I fixed it.)


	2. Veronica

You were at the trading post on a supply run, biding your time until the caravans came by with their cargo. Not that you were in a hurry or anything. You loved it up here above ground. You loved to be able to view sunrises and sunsets, to see the array of faces that the wastes held, to soak in the pure, glowing beauty of sun and moonlight. Not many people could say that they enjoyed the sandy wastes, and you could understand that, but after living half of your life in cold metal bunkers, you could honestly say that you loved it all, thick and thin.

It was refreshing to listen to the people up here, too, because they always seemed to have something interesting to say. Unlike you and your stern brothers and sisters (you loved them, really, but they got kind of stale after a while), these people had countless stories to share with you about where they were going, where they had been, and what they'd seen.

In the end, it always made you want to see more of the wastes.

You couldn't, though, much to your own dismay, and not because the folks at the bunker would give a damn (you knew your work was mainly busy work these days, meant to prevent you from going stir crazy and driving everyone else up the wall). You hated to admit it, but as much as you loved your precious power fist, it wouldn't be enough to protect you if you were all on your own. So instead you settled for wandering around the trading post, chatting up both the travelers that always left and the merchants that always stayed (except for that Alexander guy, he was kind of a jerk). Through these people, you got a more detailed understanding of what was what out there, who was who, and what needed to be known about the goings on of the wasteland.

It was while you were talking and laughing with Michelle, the woman who helped to run the post and the Slop & Shop with her father, that you heard your name softly echo up from below the bridge. It was the little Forecaster boy, who you'd become friendly with upon finding him down there amongst his various trinkets wearing his odd head device that he called his "medicine".

You waited a moment, glancing in his direction and then back at Michelle. "I'm not crazy, right?"

"No," she said with a laugh, "I think he called you. It's fine, I have to get back to work, anyway."

"Alrighty, then. I guess I'll talk to you later?"

She grinned at you as she began to wipe down the counters. "Of course. Highlight of my day."

"You're too kind."

You went to the stone ledge that overlooked the lower road and gazed down. As it turned out, he hadn't been calling you; rather, he'd been talking to the black-haired woman and the man with a red beret (NCR, you knew) that you'd seen come by earlier. Curious, you thought, that he'd tell them your name. You noticed that his device was off, and that made the whole thing all the more interesting. He'd done a few fortunes for you, so you knew the cryptic yet startlingly accurate nature that they could hold. You found yourself insanely curious as to what your personal fortune might have to do with this woman's, but you couldn't hear much else as Michelle turned on a small radio and drowned out the voices from floating up to you. You tried listen in by walking around the small railing (you'd always been the most subtle person ever), but by the time you were within a decent range, the boy was putting his medicine back on.

"Damn," you breathed. You slowly walked back towards the Slop & Shop, Michelle raising a brow at you. You shrugged back at her. That's okay, you thought. You'd play it totally cool. Get that woman's attention, a chance to talk to her about what the boy had told her, without seeming like you were really trying to.

You were so focused on plotting how to seem casual that you didn't notice that the woman and her friend had already made it up the hill and were seated at a nearby wooden table. Her eyes were on you, green and focused, totally not causing you to jump a little. Unable to think of anything else, you simply waved at her with a sheepish smile. You probably looked creepy in your brown robes.

She turned to the man and spoke to him for a moment, to which he merely nodded, and then she was standing up. And walking towards you. With purpose, like she actually wanted to talk to you. Well, that was easier than you'd expected.

Your eye caught the rifle strapped across her back, the blood and dirt that was caked to some of the exposed parts of her body, and the yellow and purple bruises along one of her arms. She looked absolutely beaten up, but it didn't seem to hinder her as much as it would a less seasoned wastelander such as yourself. You knew you would have to be completely friendly and eloquent with your words if you wanted to gain her companionship, which was exactly what you had been looking for, especially with the additional watchful eye of Beret Guy.

"No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads," you blurted when she reached you.

Nailed it.

"Where'd you come from?" Good recovery, Veronica. Truly top notch.

To your surprise, she huffed out a tired laugh, rubbing her eyes with her gloved hand. "The grave."

"Huh," you mumbled, "Well, in that case I take it back. You look pretty good, given the circumstances."

"Yeah," she replied with a nod. "I have to say, 'alive' is a great look. Never gets old."

You gave a laugh, though you weren't sure if it was really applicable since she'd basically just told you that she had died once. She didn't seem to care, though, so you supposed it was okay and shrugged it off as best as you could.

"Well, welcome, then," you chirped while holding your hand out to her. "I'm Ve-"

She took it and gave you a firm handshake before hissing slightly, pulling back and rubbing her shoulder with a wince. You jerked back and stared at her, unmoving, afraid for a moment that you'd pulled her arm out or something. Which, all things considered, would have been a really cool ability for you to have, but not in this case.

"Sorry, sorry," she assured you with a laugh, carefully rubbing her shoulder. "I dislocated my shoulder a few days ago, it's still healing."

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry!" How great you were at meeting people sometimes. Accidently hurting them just screamed "be my friend!"

She waved at you in dismissal. "It's okay, not your fault. I forgot. Anyway, your name?"

"Oh, uh." You blinked, unsure of whether you should try to offer her some sort of aid. "I'm Veronica. I….live in a hole in the ground."

* * *

You left with the Courier that day, proudly showing her your power fist to prove that you had a little something to bring to the table. She grinned, told you that since she and Boone (or as you preferred, Grumpy Sniper Beret Guy) were both used relatively ranged weapons, it'd be good to have you as long as you didn't have a problem with being up close and personal with some things.

As it turned out, in the first days of your travelling with her, you and the Courier instantly hit it off. The two of you got along famously, even more so than you'd hoped. She told you about how she'd nearly died and all that she knew about the man who'd done it, and you empathized with her, though you probably would never know what it felt like to die and be able to tell the tale. In talking with her more, you noticed that had a bit of an accent, which you thought was pretty cool. You'd only heard a few different accents in the times that you were above ground, it wasn't too often that you found someone with one.

She would ask about your life in general, which you found refreshing because for once, you could be completely honest due to her knowledge and acceptance of your part in the Brotherhood. She really was the person you had been looking for, informing you that she and Boone were headed into Vegas. You'd heard of a Followers outpost there on the edge of Vegas and hoped that you'd get to see it and talk to the people there, but you held your tongue on that. You didn't want to overburden her, especially since she was on a mission that, at the moment, was more important than your own. You'd help her with that before asking her to take you to the outpost.

You may have been a naïve Californian Brotherhood girl, but you were determined prove your worth and take action, both for the Courier and for your subterranean family.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if this story isn't like action-packed or anything, it's really meant to be the precursor to something bigger.


	3. Arcade

It was around the fifth time she came by the Old Mormon Fort that her gaze met yours. You, however, had been watching her from the moment she first walked in.

* * *

The first time she came in was on business for the King. She'd come in to talk with two of the men who had recently been attacked by NCR officers, proving to be a lot more patient with them than you would have been given how they tended to talk in circles. You overheard as she (with a hint of an accent that you'd heard before but couldn't quite place) chatted with Julie, promising the sobering and return of Bill Ronte and Jacob Hoff, though you weren't sure what she could possibly do that hadn't already been done or even how true to her word she could be. She looked more like a mercenary than anything, especially since she was accompanied by that scowling man with the telltale First Recon red beret. You stayed critical of her, suspecting an ulterior NCR-related motive.

So you kept a casual eye on her.

* * *

The second time was after Ronte and Hoff had come back to the outpost, eager and willing to receive and, in turn, provide help. You were mildly and pleasantly surprised by their return, and so was Julie. You asked her about the woman's relations with the NCR and she told you that as far as her connections knew, the woman was unaffiliated. It took a little bit of heaviness off of your shoulders that you hadn't even known had been there in the first place.

Of course, some of that weight returned when you heard that she'd recruited the ghoul guard, Beatrix, to work as a prostitute at the Atomic Wrangler. Not only that, but you'd heard about her doing bounty hunter work for the Garrets, as well. Suddenly you were suspicious of her again, put on edge with the possibility of the Garrets having an infiltrator. Why on earth they would need an infiltrator, you didn't know, but you were just a paranoid guy.

Normally you wouldn't have really cared so much about one individual mercenary, but you had to be honest: the research you were doing at the outpost would almost always lead to no useful scientific or medicinal discoveries, so you had a lot of down time on your hands.

You would just have to watch her more carefully and keep an ear open.

* * *

The third and fourth times were to arrange and settle negotiations between the Followers and a stable, reliable supplier in order to increase the outpost's chemical stocks. Once more you found yourself pleased with the woman's – the Courier, as she was making herself known – actions.

And once more that feeling was hindered by the news that your suppliers would be none other than the Garret twins, who were essentially the sole reason why the Followers were overwhelmed and under-supplied when it came to keeping Freeside sober. To make matters worse, the Followers' side of the deal involved regular maintenance on the twins' stills, which you knew would only increase their ability to drown the residents of Freeside in liquor. Julie gathered a few of you that night to discuss the pros and cons of the agreement, where you argued that even with the steady and increased supply of chems, the increase in the Garrets' production of purer alcohol would essentially keep the ratio of intoxication to sobering the same as ever, resulting in the perpetuation of Freeside's problems but on a greater scale. Many others agreed with you, but Julie brought up that cleaning up alcoholics would be chemically easier than drug addicts, allowing the Followers to build up more supplies and, as a result, more caps. She also pointed out that the Garrets where, all things considered, a reliable supplier when it came to stability. The entire trade was the epitome of a double edged sword.

Despite everyone's obvious wariness towards the Garret deal, Julie accepted. The next day, a runner showed up at the outpost with an admittedly impressive amount of clean chems as a display of the Garrets' dedication to the agreement. Julie seemed happier than she had in a while, and it helped the rest of you relax just the slightest bit more. Not much, but at least a little.

A maintenance worker was sent over to the Wrangler when the Followers' output of medicinal chems began to increase, resulting in the immediate aid to anyone who needed sobering.

Suddenly the deal didn't seem as bad as it initially had.

* * *

The fifth time came after a significantly longer period compared to the previous visits, but not without being preceded by her ever-growing reputation.

This time she was accompanied once more by the NCR man and now by a robed woman and the King's dog, strangely enough. You, like everyone else at the outpost, were aware of his condition, but you didn't think the King would so easily let his dog go with someone else, no matter how popular they were. Especially after the fit he'd thrown when he'd come in to ask about the chances of surgically aiding Rex and Julie had to say there wasn't much they could do.

You idly lingered near where the woman was quietly talking with Julie, both of their expressions somber. The dog whimpered and rubbed his head against the black-haired woman's leg and she reached down to gently pet him. Once more, you concluded, the King was seeking help for Rex. A noble cause, and smart of him to send someone with more patience, but it no doubt would bear no more fruit than it had the first time.

There was a tap on your shoulder, startling you from your eavesdropping. You turned to see the brown-hooded girl shyly smiling at you. You'd never seen her walk over to you.

"Hi!" she chirped. "I'm Veronica."

"Arcade," you replied after a moment of hesitation, holding out your hand. She shook it happily. Already you could gather that she was perky, in contrast to yourself, but you found yourself a tad bit wary of the intimidating pneumatic gauntlet she sported on her other hand.

"Nice to meet you!" She followed your gaze and laughed. "Don't worry; I'm not prone to psychotic rages. At least not to my knowledge. I could be totally crazy and not even know it, really."

You gave a shaky laugh, ever so subtly shuffling back.

"Hey, so, you're with these guys, right? The Followers of the Apocalypse?" You glanced back up at her, brown eyes warm with a hint of excitement and anxiousness.

"Yes, I am," you said slowly.

"Awesome! Cool. So, I have a few questions, if you wouldn't min-"

"Hey, Veronica," someone called.

You and Veronica both looked towards the direction of the voice, and for the first time since you'd first seen her, you locked eyes the Courier. Within the next few minutes, you actually met the Courier.

In hindsight, it was one of those ideas that seemed really good at first and then once you commit you realize you're in way over your head.

But somehow, you'd been suckered into joining the Courier.

* * *

**A/N: **Bluh.


	4. Rex

The King had told you to go with her, so you did.

She always gave you belly rubs and treats, she rarely wore hats, and the King liked her. So you liked her.

And that was that.

* * *

**A/N:** Lumping this update together with ED-E's because it's so damn short.


	5. ED-E

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* * *

**A/N: **Deciding the amount of emotion to put into ED-E is difficult just because it's a robot but it's also cute little ED-E.

**EDIT: **Someone gave me the excellent idea of putting it all in binary, so there. The reason why it's all in binary is because it's all from ED-E's perspective. If you care enough, use the **Paul Schou Binary Translator. **I'd advise going paragraph by paragraph when translating.


	6. Cass

You were minding your own business at the bar in the Outpost when you first met her. Glancing up indifferently towards the sound of the doors opening, you watched as she quietly talked to the bartender, smiling and asking for work. She had a strange accent that dusted over her voice barely enough to be noticeable, but your drunken mind couldn't quite place it. When she and the bartender stopped talking, you realized you were still staring, lost in thought and whiskey.

_Oh god, don't look at me, don't notice me, don't –_

Shit. She noticed. Granted, you were undoubtedly wearing a scowl and drowning in empty bottles, as usual these days, so you always attracted travelers' attention until you scared them off with the threat of a broken nose.

She walked over casually and took the seat next to you, facing forward. For a moment, you thought maybe she'd actually leave you alone. Maybe you got lucky.

Then she turned to face you.

"Hi." Well, at least she started out politely. That couldn't be said about everyone who approached you. Still, you swore under your breath.

"What do you want?" you snapped. So you were a little rude, but you couldn't help it. People were dicks. Life was a dick. You just wanted to be left alone with your whiskey.

She didn't seem to be fazed, only shrugging. "You seem down."

"I'm fine."

"Really? That rather impressive fort of empty bottles doesn't seem to agree." Part of you wanted to smack that smirk off her face, and part of you wanted to smirk with her.

"These bottles are all I have left aside from the clothes on my back," you slurred with a bitter laugh. "They're my only friends."

"I can tell, seeing as how you're pretty deep into that one."

"You talk funny."

"So do you." You almost laughed.

"Well, in my defense, I'm drunk as all hell," you replied. "What's your excuse?"

She shrugged again. "You've got me there. Can't say that I know."

You paused in mid-swig at that, raising a brow at her. That sounded a bit weird, but her friendly smile seemed indifferent towards it. She probably meant for it to be that way. So you finished what was left of your whiskey (in that bottle, anyway) and simply met her eyes.

"Life's shit, ain't it?"

"It most certainly is," she said with a solemn nod. She looked forward again, away from you, and you almost thought you'd said something that struck a chord and that she'd leave. "But that's not why I'm here," she continued suddenly after a moment of contemplation. "What's life handed to you, Miss….?"

"Rose of Sharon Cassidy," you slurred after concluding that she just wouldn't leave. You held out your hand to her, laughing inwardly at the flash of confusion on her face.

"Well, that's a mouthful," she laughed. You smirked, dropping her hand.

"Yep. Just call me Cass."

"Fair enough. So, what's on your mind, Cass?"

And for some reason that was utterly beyond you, you told her. You told her everything about your sacked caravan, how you got into the business, about your old exploits of the booze in the first trips, even what little you knew about your dear old dad, because you were just so damn tired and so damn drunk and so beaten down by life – no matter how fiery your seemed – that you needed to tell _someone _who wasn't a part of the Outpost or an idiot traveler. You told her all there was to tell, not without a bit of spiteful sass here and there, but for once, you were _talking _to someone as opposed to beating their face in as per your usual drunken behavior, and it felt kind of nice.

Eventually the time came were you – surprisingly – didn't have much else to say. It may have also had something to do with your increasing case of cottonmouth after talking for so long, but somehow your long rant finally slowed to an end. Once you stopped talking, everything seemed a lot quieter than usual, which was actually pretty calming.

The woman eventually stretched and stood, saying that she'd had a lovely time talking with you but that she had to head out. You only nodded, more than a little talked-out for the next week or so.

She paused in thought before asking if you would be interesting in going with her. Looking her over, you figured you wouldn't really mind, with how pleasant she'd been, but you had to shake your head, explaining ruefully that you were bound to the Outpost by your dead caravan. You even recommended that if she were looking into caravan work that she instead go to the Crimson Caravan Company where she would have more luck at actually accomplishing something. She nodded in understanding.

"Then I guess we'll see each other some other time, Cass."

You smiled softly. "I'd like that. Gets pretty damn boring here."

She began to walk out before quickly turning on her heel back at you. "You wouldn't by any chance happen to have a sensor module, would you?"

"No, but you could check the caravans outside. They tend to pick up junk like that."

"Damn. Well, thanks anyway." With a final wave, she was gone.

It was only after she'd left that you realized only you had been talking that whole time, while she'd simply nodded and listened.

* * *

You really hadn't expected to see her again.

You found yourself proven wrong when, roughly three weeks later, the bar doors opened and she walked in again. Three weeks had passed and you were in the exact same spot as the first time, reminding you of just how pathetic your situation was.

"Hey, Cass!" she called with a wave. You smirked and lazily tipped your hat at her. "I see you're still funding the bar."

You laughed bitterly. "Yeah, you could say that. How's life treating you?"

She gave a little hand gesture as she sat down in the same spot she had last time. "Eh, it's so-so. Finished one thing just to have another pop up, you know?"

"Right now, can't say that I do."

"Oh, right. Sorry," she replied with a sheepish smile.

"Don't worry about it," you muttered, nursing your drink.

"Oh! That kind of brings up why I'm here." She reached into her bag and pulled out some papers, sliding them across the bar to you. "Crimson Caravan is offering to buy Cassidy Caravans."

You took the packet and flipped through the pages idly, ignoring the business and technical spiel, before settling on the last page where the offer was. "That's a lot of zeroes," you remarked.

"Yep."

"I can't accept this."

Her eyes widened. "You want _more_?"

"No, the caps are good. I just….can't. I can't sell my caravan. It's all I have."

"It's ash," she commented matter-of-factly. You were past it enough at this point to not punch her in the face for that.

"I know. But it's my name. You wouldn't sell your name, would you?"

She seemed to seriously consider it before replying, "No, I can't say that I would."

"Then you can't expect me to sell mine," you concluded before taking a deep swig of whiskey.

She sighed, reaching up to untie her long ponytail. The black hair fell loose and spilled down over her shoulders before she quickly scrubbed a hand through it all to pull it back and retied it. After a moment of silence between the two of you, she turned to face you, resting her cheek in the hand propped up on the wood of the bar.

"Isn't your caravan the reason you're still here?"

"Sure is." You could see where this was going.

"So you'd rather just sit here every day, doing this?" She swept her free hand out as if to show you the wonders of the dimly lit bar.

"Sure would."

"Because it seems like you're not doing anything at all. You're just wasting away here in a pretty shitty outpost. I think there's a lot more you'd rather be doing." She hit the nail on the head, getting straight to the ugly point. Truth was, you'd thought about that more times than you could count. Hearing it come from someone else, however, made it all the more real.

"You've got a point," you mumbled. "I wouldn't be stuck here if it weren't for my contract."

"Exactly," she said softly. "Listen, you're not selling your name. You've still got every right to that, Cass. But you have to let the caravan go, or you won't be able to move forward. You'll be stuck here, doing the same exact thing you've been doing for the past month or so."

You considered her words. You'd always seen selling your caravan as selling your name, and you knew your father worn turn over in his grave if you did that. But the caravan was gone, just like he was. And you'd still be the mouthful that was Rose of Sharon Cassidy.

"Alright," you sighed, giving in, "Got a pen?"

* * *

After you signed the papers, you felt a weight being lifted from your shoulders. You didn't realize that ghosts could be so heavy and burdening. When she – the Courier – offered once more to have you join her, you accepted. You had nowhere to be but all the power to leave now.

You didn't expect the posse she had waiting outside. One of which you recognized as a First Recon guy, given the beret, and the other two just looked out of place. The robo-dog happily ran up to the Courier, jumping up on her as she laughed and got him to sit.

"Yeah, I've accumulated a bit of an entourage since I last saw you," she said to you with a laugh. You nodded slightly before jumping back as a small floating robot flew past you to settle near the woman, making an array of pings and beeps. It almost sounded like it was communicating.

"Oh yeah," she told you with a grin, "I found that sensor module I was looking for."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm still laughing because of ED-E's chapter.


	7. Lily

Leo had told you to do bad things to that girl when she first showed up in town, with a yellow-haired man and a robo-dog at her side. She was one of the few humans that was brave enough to step foot in Jacobstown, and, just like with the others, she quickly became a target of Leo's bloodlust. But you told him no, you didn't mind her and weren't going to harm a single black hair on her head, so she came and went without any damage and you continued tending to your bighorners.

* * *

When she came back (this time without the dog), you watched her talk to Marcus. He seemed to be okay with her, and as you saw her make those bad men go away, you decided that you were, too. Leo still didn't like her and kept encouraging you to use your giant blade to chop her into tiny little pieces, but you just took your medicine and he shut up. Like last time, she went into the lodge, and you overheard from Keene that she was trying to help the doctor make new Stealth Boys.

Suddenly, Leo wasn't as loud about her; however, every now and then he would grumpily murmur about her not working fast enough, just like Keene was doing anytime you overheard him.

The girl came and went several more times, always going into the lodge to help Dr. Henry or offering to help Marcus get supplies. You didn't care what Leo said. She seemed nice.

* * *

Leo was being particularly ornery during one visit. He was ranting about how the girl kept coming and going without bringing the things that really mattered: Stealth Boys. You were about to yell at him to leave her alone when you felt your skin crawl. There were eyes on you.

You looked up from your bighorners to see the yellow-haired man in a white coat staring at you curiously from the front porch of the lodge. You would have smiled, if you could.

"Jimmy!" you shouted, causing him to jump back just a bit. "My, how you've grown up! Come chat with your grandma!"

He seemed hesitant to join you in your bighorner pen, the silly boy, but he came over eventually. He introduced himself as Arcade, which you found strange until you remembered that the only piece you had left of your grandchildren was on a holotape. He still reminded you of Jimmy, though, so you liked him. You introduced him to Leo and the bighorners (he gave you an odd look, which you found peculiar because you were sure that bighorners were common around these parts) and he asked you how your medicine worked and you learned that the girl's name was the Courier. You thought that was a strange name, and he laughed and agreed with you, remarking that he wasn't sure what her real name was. You didn't know what that meant, but you didn't care. He was a lovely boy, a nice change in atmosphere from grumpy ol' Leo, who you realized was being oddly quiet.

Arcade was asking about how you'd made your way to Jacobstown when the lodge doors opened and closed. He turned at the sound, interrupting himself and drawing your attention to whoever had come through. It was his friend, the Courier, walking over to your pen with a small smile and a wave.

"Hey, guys," she said with a grin. She, like Arcade reminded you of your grandchildren, but you supposed that every young, fresh-faced human did that these days. She turned to you. "Hi, Lily. Dr. Henry told me that you'd be interested in helping us with his research? We'll be looking into the nearby nightstalker mutation."

"Oh, those Nightstalkers, always killing my bighorners! It'll be nice to give them a piece of my mind!" you growled. "Of course I'll help you, dearie!"

"Great!" she chirped, "Let's get going, then. He said their nest isn't too far from here."

* * *

You got your revenge on the nightstalkers, much to Leo's murderous delight. By the time you reached the corpse of the Nightkin that appeared to have what the Courier had been looking for, you'd effectively cleared out the entire cave of every last of the sneaky little vermin. She had allowed you to run ahead and clean the caverns out as she and Arcade picked off anything that jumped at you from behind, which – while ultimately unnecessary with such small creatures that could barely pierce your thick skin – you were very grateful for.

When you got back to the lodge, she told you to go ahead and wait outside while she went in to deliver her findings. You agreed, because you had to check on your bighorners to be sure that none of them had gotten away or been attacked in your absence.

She came back out minutes later with a look of uncertainty.

"Hello again, dear," you greeted.

"Hi," she returned softly. "Did you, uh….did you still want to help the doctor with his experiment?"

"Of course, dearie," you replied, "I know it's dangerous, but it'll all turn out for the best, you'll see."

"I just want to make sure that you know what the risks at stake are, Lily."

"I do," you assured. At least, you hoped it assured her. She looked so worried about you, and you didn't want that. "I'll go to him now – it would be rude to keep him waiting!" She nodded.

"I'll go with you."

Together you walked into the lodge and to Dr. Henry's small lab. You greeted him and he gave you a tired smile, offhandedly asking how you were feeling and if you were taking your medicine as prescribed as he set up his equipment and took basic readings off of you. You lied, of course, but he wouldn't be the wiser about it.

You were instructed to power on the device he handed to you. When you did, you felt a warm rush of energy, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. You looked down, unable to view your own hand, and you figured that it worked. Leo was ecstatic, which was a change from his usual rage and bloodlust.

"How is it?" Henry asked, clipboard and pen in hand. Calamity was watching some sort of data machine, but you couldn't be bothered with caring about what it meant.

"It feels….strange," you remarked, wiggling around. "Strange, but good!"

"Interesting," he mused. "Try thinking aggressive thoughts, now. Think about….smashing a rat's skull."

Leo helped you with that and you yelled and roared, overcome with blind anger and the need to smash and break something.

The Courier and Arcade, who had been observing the test off to the side, took simultaneous involuntary steps back. He murmured something to her, earning a giggle. Looking at them, strangely, sent a blanket of coolness over you, and you felt yourself calming down.

"How are those readings looking, Calamity?"

"Stealth field is unstable and scrambling things. The reading says gamma wave activity is zero," the ghoul replied, still leaning over the computer. "But that can't possibly be right; it must be a result of the interference."

Henry sighed. "Alright, we're done here," he told you tiredly. "Go ahead and power the Stealth Boy down, Lily."

You did as told, causing Leo to break out of his temporary pleasantness (or what could be considered as that, given it was Leo) and scream at you to turn it back on. You ignored him and his outrage, instead opting to say, "Aww, I liked having it on."

"I'll get back to you on that in a moment," he reassured, taking the device from you. "After I've analyzed these results."

Taking that as your cue, you left to patiently await the results, giddy with the thought of having a new, better Stealth Boy in your possession. As you left, a group of Nightkin led by Keene, who had apparently been eagerly waiting outside of the room during the test, ran past you and into the lab. Immediately, you heard him yelling, but it wasn't the first time that had happened, so you shrugged it off and waited outside.

You were never entirely sure about what had gone on in there, but whatever it was resulted in a more or less peaceful end, with Keene and his followers retreating, albeit grumbling and vengeful. Knowing Keene, he would try something else to get what he wanted, and you hoped that it could be resolved soon.

* * *

The Courier had come back to you later, followed closely by Arcade, and you were admittedly excited to hear the verdict. You were hoping to be able to keep the Stealth Boy, both because of how good it felt to have and to keep Leo at least the slightest bit satisfied, so he wasn't always yelling about everything.

"Well, Lily, it looks like the doctor won't need you for his experiments anymore," she told you with a smile and a hint of pride. Arcade nodded, beaming at her.

"It was brilliant, really. A simple solution to a complicated, drawn-out problem."

You were a little disappointed at hearing that, and Leo was….more than a little disappointed. As in, he was howling and screaming that her skull would sound so good being crushed under your boot.

"Aw, but I liked the prototype!" you pouted, omitting any thoughts that Leo had. None of them were things the girl would want to hear.

"I know, I know. But I just didn't want you to be put at anymore of a risk. I suggested a reasonable alternative, and if anything, the Mark II will be out and ready for use faster than you know!" she assured you. Leo was still angry, especially at having to wait again, but at the promise of the new Stealth Boy being closer to reality, he quieted down just the slightest bit.

"Alright then, dearie," you conceded, "I trust your judgment."

She suggested that you join her in her travels, an offer that you gladly accepted. She and Arcade were both so lovely to be around, and you figured that you'd be useful in protecting her. Hearing that she'd had run ins with bad men made your blood boil, so you wanted to be sure that you were around to snap the necks of anyone else that attempted to hurt her.

"So what's next on our agenda? Something life-threatening, I assume?" Arcade remarked, smiling at her.

"Oh, I'm afraid it's not quite as exciting as this, my dear Arcade," she replied with a wide grin. "We're gonna go hunting for a dog brain."

* * *

**A/N: **Woo, only one more to go!


End file.
